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<lipsum>
    <copyright>This text is under public domain</copyright>
    <title>The Raven</title>
    <author>Edgar Allan Poe</author>
    <text>
	once upon a midnight dreary while i pondered weak and weary
	over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore
	while i nodded nearly napping suddenly there came a tapping
	as of some one gently rapping rapping at my chamber door
	tis some visiter i muttered tapping at my chamber door
			     only this and nothing more 
	
	ah distinctly i remember it was in the bleak december
	and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor
	eagerly i wished the morrow vainly i had sought to borrow
	from my books surcease of sorrowsorrow for the lost lenore
	for the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name lenore
			     nameless here for evermore 
	
	and the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
	thrilled mefilled me with fantastic terrors never felt before
	so that now to still the beating of my heart i stood repeating
	tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door
	some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door
			     this it is and nothing more 
	
	presently my soul grew stronger hesitating then no longer
	sir said i or madam truly your forgiveness i implore
	but the fact is i was napping and so gently you came rapping
	and so faintly you came tapping tapping at my chamber door
	that i scarce was sure i heard youhere i opened wide the door
			     darkness there and nothing more 
	
	deep into that darkness peering long i stood there wondering fearing
	doubting dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before
	but the silence was unbroken and the stillness gave no token
	and the only word there spoken was the whispered word lenore
	this i whispered and an echo murmured back the word lenore
			     merely this and nothing more 
	
	back into the chamber turning all my soul within me burning
	soon again i heard a tapping something louder than before
	surely said i surely that is something at my window lattice
	let me see then what thereat is and this mystery explore
	let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore
			     tis the wind and nothing more 
	
	open here i flung the shutter when with many a flirt and flutter
	in there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore
	not the least obeisance made he not a minute stopped or stayed he
	but with mien of lord or lady perched above my chamber door
	perched upon a bust of pallas just above my chamber door
			     perched and sat and nothing more 
	
	then the ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling
	by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore
	though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou i said art sure no craven
	ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore
	tell me what thy lordly name is on the nights plutonian shore
			     quoth the raven nevermore 
	
	much i marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly
	though its answer little meaninglittle relevancy bore
	for we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
	ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door
	bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door
			     with such name as nevermore 
	
	but the raven sitting lonely on that placid bust spoke only
	that one word as if its soul in that one word he did outpour
	nothing farther then he uttered not a feather then he fluttered
	till i scarcely more than muttered other friends have flown before
	on the morrow he will leave me as my hopes have flown before
			     then the bird said nevermore 
	
	startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken
	doubtless said i what it utters is its only stock and store
	caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
	followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore
	till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
			     of nevernevermore 
	
	but the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling
	straight i wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door
	then upon the velvet sinking i betook myself to linking
	fancy unto fancy thinking what this ominous bird of yore
	what this grim ungainly ghastly gaunt and ominous bird of yore
			     meant in croaking nevermore 
	
	this i sat engaged in guessing but no syllable expressing
	to the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosoms core
	this and more i sat divining with my head at ease reclining
	on the cushions velvet lining that the lamplight gloated oer
	but whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating oer
			     she shall press ah nevermore 
	
	then methought the air grew denser perfumed from an unseen censer
	swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor
	wretch i cried thy god hath lent theeby these angels he hath sent thee
	respiterespite and nepenthe from thy memories of lenore
	quaff oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost lenore
			     quoth the raven nevermore 
	
	prophet said i thing of evilprophet still if bird or devil
	whether tempter sent or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore
	desolate yet all undaunted on this desert land enchanted
	on this home by horror hauntedtell me truly i implore
	is thereis there balm in gileadtell metell me i implore
			     quoth the raven nevermore 
	
	prophet said i thing of evilprophet still if bird or devil
	by that heaven that bends above usby that god we both adore
	tell this soul with sorrow laden if within the distant aidenn
	it shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name lenore
	clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name lenore
			     quoth the raven nevermore 
	
	be that our sign of parting bird or fiend i shrieked upstarting
	get thee back into the tempest and the nights plutonian shore
	leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken
	leave my loneliness unbrokenquit the bust above my door
	take thy beak from out my heart and take thy form from off my door
			     quoth the raven nevermore 
	
	and the raven never flitting still is sitting still is sitting
	on the pallid bust of pallas just above my chamber door
	and his eyes have all the seeming of a demons that is dreaming
	and the lamplight oer him streaming throws his shadows on the floor
	and my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
			     shall be liftednevermore
    </text>
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